Love Makes the Difference (Sully Point Book 1) (19 page)

Later at the loft he saw the bed in the back corner of the
loft behind screens. "When did this get here?"

"Earlier today, before Stanley came. I can't decide if
I like the screens or not. Without them, I'll have to keep that bed made up
nicely all the time."

"That may be difficult to do when I have major plans
for messing up the bed covers on a regular basis."

She smiled at him, her eyes, green today, sparkling. "Oh
you do, huh? And you think by teasing me with the promise of sex I'll forget
all about your high-handedness in buying me a replacement for my car?"

"That vehicle barely qualifies for the name 'car' and
besides, it's a Porsche I bought, not just any old replacement."

She danced out of the way of his reaching arms. "No,
not yet. First tell me what color the Porsche is."

He hoped strongly that he'd chosen right. "Blue-green."

She moved toward him. "Hmm. Interesting."

He took another step and swooped her up in his arms as she
gave a little scream. "Time to check out the new bed."

"You're carrying me!"

"That's right."

"I think I like it."

He laughed and hugged her to him--before he dropped her onto
the bed. She giggled and got up to bounce on the bed a few times.

"I think it can handle us," she said, eyes
suddenly intense with passion.

He crawled onto the bed until they were inches apart, both
on their knees. "Can it? I've been hampered by the lack of a good bed up
to now, you know."

"Have you? You mean it gets better?"

"Oh yeah." Suddenly they were in each other's arms
as the spark between them grew into a blaze hot as wildfire.

* * * *

Anna watched him working on his laptop, as he sat at the
kitchen counter. She was curled up in the big leather chair that had finally
been delivered this week. The past couple of days they'd spent either working--him
on the first floor and her at the bakery--or else they were spending time
having tons of incredible sex. This was the first time she'd managed to sit and
relax in the new chair.

He ran both hands through his hair. Then said, "Aha!"
and bent quickly back to the keyboard, typing quickly.

She'd noticed how he seemed able to work when she was
around, but it wasn't that way for her painting. Even when his eyes weren't on
her, she kept thinking they were and getting distracted.

Gradually, she was getting used to living with him. He was a
considerate roommate, helping out with whatever needed to be done. Much more
important was his presence. He filled the empty spaces she hadn't even known
were there. And there was laughter here, and talking, and definitely loving.
She smiled a secretive little satisfied smile. As much as she wanted him, he
seemed to want her even more.

But there was still that little wall between them. He didn't
say it anymore, not even when making love. He said other things--'I adore you'
or 'You're my life' but never the L-word.

She knew it was up to her to cross that bridge. And she
could feel herself getting more certain of him. It was just--not quite yet.

When she saw him take his hands off the keyboard and push
away from the counter, she said to him, "Hey handsome, got a minute?"

He turned to her with a vague smile, eyes still unfocused."

"What did you call me?"

"Handsome. Cause you are."

"Ah, okay then." His eyes left his work to really
see her. "That chair looks big enough for two."

"It just might be."

He came over and got into the chair with her partially on
his lap.

"I think I need to tell you something," she said,
a bit nervously.

"Hmm?" He nuzzled her neck, scattering little
kisses.

"Yes, although I can't think very well when you do that
to me."

"That's the idea."

"It's about that thing I never say."

She felt him freeze and then slowly move away from her neck
to look at her. "It's my issue, my problem. Not you. I feel--so much for
you--but there's this distrust, no not that really--a fear. I've figured out it
comes from my mother dying. Always being afraid that people could disappear on
me, leave me, if I cared about them. Anyway, I'm working on it. Don't give up
on me, okay?"

He pulled her against his chest and hugged her. "Never.
I'll never give up on you."

She sighed in relief. "So you still..."

He whispered in her ear. "Always, love. Forever."
They sat together in the quiet for a while and then he said, "You know, it
won't always be as crazy as it has been for us. Someday the bodyguards will be
gone and the reason for them as well. We'll have our lives just to ourselves.
What shall we do? Where would you go if you could go anywhere in the
world?"

"Anywhere? Hmm. I think it would have to be
Italy."

"Ah, I could show you the work of the old masters, the
art--"

"Not just the art, though that would be incredible to
see, but more the feeling of the country. I've always thought of it as a
romantic place."

"We could have our own villa with a vineyard," he
said, warming to the idea. "A house that has history in its bones. And you
could wear flowing night gowns on the balcony, that I'd later tear off your
body in my lust for you."

She laughed. "Flowing gowns? Okay, but if I wear those,
you have to come up the marble stairs wearing a white shirt unbuttoned to show
off your chest, the kind with the sleeves that billow out."

"A puffy shirt?"

"A hot one."

"Ah, I see. And I suppose tight leather pants?"

"I could live with that picture." She giggled.
"Then you'd feed me strawberries dipped in chocolate from our bed. And the
doors would be open to the balcony, so we'd feel the night breezes on our
skin."

"Every day I'd bring you fresh flowers from the
garden."

"And we'd have a cook so I would only have to cook when
I felt like it."

"I think there would have to be a large tub," he
said. "Definitely big enough for both of us. Scented oils and flower
petals floating on the water--the whole nine yards."

"Sounds...arboreal."

He laughed.

"No, I like it." She sighed. "Too bad we have
to wait for all that. It sounds like a dream."

"Well, we don't have to wait for all of it. There are
still some things we can do right now that will show you how I feel from
holding you in my arms."

Then he proceeded to show her in no uncertain terms just
what he felt.

Chapter 10

Sam walked through the first floor on the wide plank cherry hardwood.
He loved the richness of the wood. Anna thought the wide planks were genius in
the large space. The furniture had arrived and broken up the space, along with
a couple of big rugs. His desk sat at about the halfway mark of the room. On
the back wall was a dart board that he resorted to when he had trouble with his
writing. Anna had bought him a conch shell at one of the tourist shops for a
paperweight that was sitting on the desk. The bathroom was as big as the one
upstairs, but this one held a free-standing modern-looking tub, jetted and fit
for two.

He looked at the window area in the front of the building.
They'd left the vintage glass blocks. He was always careful not to stand in
front of them. Even though the past couple of weeks had been free of any
sighting of Patrice, nobody believed that the trouble with her was over.

The kitchenette had turned out quite well, and Sam pulled a
bottle of White Zinfandel out of the wine fridge. He'd noticed Anna's music
turn off a few minutes before and knew she'd be down soon. When they'd redone
this space she'd insisted that they use major insulation for sound in the
ceiling. Even with that he could still hear the bass faintly when she blasted
it. Another reason he couldn't work up there when she was painting.

Things had been going well between them. So well he'd had
moments of nervousness. Never in his life had he gotten along so well with
another person. The writing was starting to move  at a good pace on this book,
and Anna's plans for her first show were shaping up under Stanley's direction.
It was perfect--except for the bodyguards.

He supposed they'd both gotten used to the guards but the
reason for them--he wasn't sure he could ever get used to someone hating him
that much.

"That can't be good. I haven't seen a frown like that
on your face, ever," Anna said walking across the room. "What's
wrong? Book not cooperating?"

"I didn't even hear you come down the stairs."

"That's because I'm barefoot." She kicked a foot
out from under a new maxi dress. It was a pale green with gold threads running
through it and made her eyes glow.

"I was thinking about the forbidden topic again--Patrice."

"No, now we said we wouldn't discuss her anymore. It
doesn't help anything."

"But don't you wonder about her?"

Anna sighed. She reached out for the glass of wine he'd
poured for her and took a sip. "All the time. I just refuse to talk about
her."

"I wonder sometimes about my judgment. What I could
have been thinking to get involved with her in the first place."

"Sam...would you be offended if I said I don't think
you were 'involved' so much as getting some?"

He barked out a laugh. "That's direct, even for you."

"In your Tom Anders persona, I think you went for a
particular type to add to the image. Tall--check. Blond--check. Gorgeous--check.
You weren't exactly looking for someone to find meaning in your life with, at
least I don't think so."

He thought about it. She was right. He'd never been looking
for a real relationship with any of those women.

"So you've had no word of her?" Anna asked. It was
the first time she'd asked in the past two weeks.

"Norm calls me every day with an update from the
investigator. He can't find her. She's been smart enough to use cash, we think,
instead of credit cards."

"Damn. Okay, that's about all I want to hear about her.
Tell me about the book. How's it going?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair. He should have gotten it
cut by now, but Anna seemed to love running her hands through it so he was
waiting. "The book. I think it's going well, but I'm going a different way
than usual this time around and I'm not sure how people will respond."

"What do you mean? You're not going to kill off Maurice
are you?"

"No, no. There would be no series without him. You know
how Maury meets women in his adventures. But nothing lasting. This time around
I think Maury has met 'the one' and will end up with her. That is, unless she
turns out to be the murderer."

Anna stared at him. "How can you not know if she will
be the murderer? You're the writer!"

He laughed. "Not that simple, at least not for me, the
way I write. I make plans, a rough outline, but when it comes to the actual
writing my characters sometimes go off and do things I don't expect."

"Hmm. That sounds strange."

"Yes, well, imagine being me and suddenly finding your
fingers typing out a completely different scenario than you'd expected. It's a
bizarre feeling. But when you're tapped into the flow of creativity, the
universe, whatever it is I get tapped into, it's best to just go with it and
see where it leads."

Anna walked over to the cream-colored sofa and sat down,
tucking one leg up under her body. "So you're telling me that Maury might
get really serious about this woman? Like marriage and everything?"

Sam joined her on the sofa. He stretched out an arm along
the back and played with the ends of her hair. "I'm not sure yet, but
maybe. As a Maury fan, how would you feel if he settled down into a long-term
relationship, or marriage?"

He watched the thoughts fly across her face. Lately he'd
realized he loved to watch her think. Her face was so expressive. He saw
surprise, then a serious look, then humor, and a sudden realization--

"Sam! Are you writing it this way because of us?"

"My relationship with you is definitely influencing the
book. But I have to confess that I've considered it for the last couple of
books. I don't know how much it will change the character to have someone
permanently in his life, like a wife, to not be such a loner."

"It'll be a big change, that's for sure. Probably some
readers will love it, even while others hate it. Do you consider what the
reader might like when you're writing?"

"No, not really. Bottom line here is that I tell the
story that's in my head, whichever way it goes."

She gave him a cagey smile. "So will you let me read
what you've written so far?"

"Don't think that smile will work on me. I've told you
before, nobody reads it until I'm done. Then I'll let you and Norm read it.
Then my editor. And I'll be a nervous wreck the whole time you are all reading
it."

"I can't quite picture that."

"Believe me it's true."

She moved closer to him on the couch. "I bet I could
convince you to let me read it early."

"I have no objection to letting you try."

She laughed. "I'm sure that's true. Sam, are you happy?"

"Now? This minute? Or in general?"

"In general."

"Very happy. And  you--are you happy, Anna?"

She fitted her body to his after setting her drink down on
the coffee table. "I'm happier than I knew was possible. I never even
imagined being this happy."

He felt a little jolt of relief inside as she said that.
Then he kissed her.

A loud popping noise sounded outside the building and one of
the glass blocks in the front window exploded.

Kevin burst into the room yelling, "Down! Get on the
floor!"

Sam rolled them both off the sofa and onto the rug. He knew
they needed to be further back in the room. "Crawl, Anna, to the back."
She seemed shaky but alert and nodded. They proceeded to move to the back of
the large room, while Kevin kept watch and talked on his radio.